


Why Her?

by Bontaque



Category: Weather Girl
Genre: Best Friends, Crossdressing, Jealousy, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 17:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bontaque/pseuds/Bontaque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byron likes Sylvia and Walt isn't too happy about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Her?

Walt sat there, contemplating what was probably the most redundant thing ever. _How come my best friend is attracted to my sister and not me?_ Sylvia had spent the first day repeatedly asking who Byron was and, well, she obviously thought that she was too good for him. Walt loved his sister but she could be such a snob sometimes. If she didn't think Byron was good enough for her, she didn't deserve him.

 

Obviously, she was attracted to him, how could anyone not be? She was always trying to be mature, though. She seemed to think that sitting around and hanging out wasn't a valid way of spending time. That was why Walt loved Byron so much sometimes. He was always there, always ready to have fun in some way. It wasn't like he loved him loved him, he just... loved spending time with him. He loved having him around and for some reason, him saying Sylvia was hot bothered him. A lot.

 

It was ten AM and, as usual, he had nothing planned. Byron walked into his bedroom, which shouldn't really have surprised him. Byron ended up sleeping at his a lot of the time anyway.

 

"Jesus, what is it with you and your family?” he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Walt tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes. What? "Did you win the genetic lottery or something? I mean, it just shouldn't be fair to have that much hotness in one family."

 

Oh. He was talking about Sylvia. Again. Well, him, too, but haha, very funny. 'Cause that's what they did. Byron would introduce him as his "sexy best friend" and Walt would protest with something like "oh, we're only friends, now?" and they'd wrestle and Walt would end up sexually frustrated.

 

It wasn't like he was attracted to Byron. Well, he wasn't gay. Not really. Just sometimes when they got drunk together, they'd look at each other and Walt wouldn't know why he was suddenly hard in his jeans.

 

"You're going to have to get over my sister, dude. She's got a date tonight."

 

Byron's face fell into a mock pout.

 

"Is he picking her up from here?" Byron asked.

 

"Yeah, why?" Walt swung his legs out of bed and pulled a t shirt off of the floor. It was Byron's. He put it on anyway.

 

"You need to stop stealing my clothes."

 

"You need to stop stealing my clothes after sleeping with me and leaving yours here."

 

"What?" Sylvia was standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised. Byron threw his arm around Walt's shoulders, moving closer to him on the bed.

 

"You have a problem with our love? I wont have this sort of homophobia in my boyfriend's bedroom."

 

Walt snorted with laughter at the look on his sister's face.

 

"You guys are idiots."

 

*

 

That evening, Sylvia was dressed up and ready to go. Walt was sitting on his bed, Byron at the computer, when there was a knock at the door. They raised their eyebrows at each other; their plan was ready to go. Walt grabbed hold of Sylvia to stop her from getting to the door and Byron ran forwards to open it.

 

He tried hard to not just laugh at the guy standing there. He was obviously a jerk. He leant against the door frame.

 

"Yes?" he asked.

 

"Uh, is Sylvia here?"

 

"Sylvia? Hmm... And who can I tell her is calling?" Byron asked.

 

"Charles."

 

"Charles? Sylvia," Byron called. "Charles is here!"

 

"Charles is here?" Walt called, in mock awe. Byron felt him slip under his shoulder, throwing his arm around his neck. He didn't hear the rest of Walt's speech, he couldn't help but notice the way Walt's body was warm against his. He just nodded along with him, pulled out of his stupor when Sylvia barged her way out of the apartment.

 

He watched as she greeted Charles and apologised for their behaviour. He was almost sad to see him go as they called out warnings to him.

 

"Fire escape?" Walt suggested with a grin. Byron nodded. He always did come up with the best ideas.

 

*

 

"We're getting drunk tonight," Byron said.

 

"We are?"

 

"Well obviously I just lost the love of my life to that waste of space. I have a bottle of rum at mine from New Year's. Let's get drunk and make some music."

 

Walt dropped down onto his bed before Byron ran back across the hall to grab the bottle from his kitchen. He saw his pc in the corner, dust gathering on his keyboard. He tried to remember what he'd told Walt was the problem with it. He didn't think Walt would remember anyway.

 

Byron walked back across the hall, to the front door that he used more often than his own. He hoped Sylvia would leave soon. He didn't have a couch to sleep on now and he doubted that Walt would let him sleep in his bed when she was there. Officially, he wasn't allowed to sleep in there anyway. It wasn't like they had some agreement that he was allowed as long as nobody was looking. It just happened a lot more often than it probably should. Byron knew it probably wasn't even a big deal to Walt. He'd probably never even thought about it.

 

It was probably why they'd taken to always staying in Walt's apartment. Byron's was a little smaller and he could only fit a single bed in there. He'd had more than enough money to move somewhere better for a while now, he'd even looked at a few places when he'd gotten his first web design cheque. He couldn't move, though. Then where would he go when his pc broke? Not that it had.

 

*

 

Walt looked at the bottle in Byron's hands and recognised it from New Year's. That had been a good night. They'd ended up in a bar down the road and Byron had looked really fucking good. They'd drunk far too much and Walt had very nearly done something stupid when they'd gotten home with that bottle but he'd held it together. All he really remembered was waking up with Byron draped over him in his bed.

 

Two hours later, the rum was gone and they were singing along with lazy guitar playing, clumsy chords, fingers slipping between strings with no precision. Byron had nice hands. That was something Walt had always noticed.

 

There were only so many times you could get hopelessly drunk with you best friend/the guy you were weirdly attracted to without saying something stupid.

 

“Why are you attracted to Sylvia?” he asked.

 

“What?” Byron stopped playing and looked up at him. “I don't know, she's hot? Why are you asking?”

 

“I don't know, just... why does everyone always like her and not me?”

 

“What?”

 

“What does she have that I don't?” Walt closed his eyes, realising how whiny he'd sounded.

 

“I don't know, she's a girl?”

 

It sounded like Byron should have been angry, confused, but he wasn't. His voice was calm, laid back.

 

“Oh. Yeah.” Walt said, desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject.

 

“What, you want me to be attracted to you?”

 

“I didn't say that.”

 

Walt took a deep breath. Byron looked curious now. Walt didn't know if it was just the rum but he felt like he might have a chance. Or more of a chance now than he'd ever though he'd had before, at least.

 

“No, but you suggested it,” Byron said.

 

“I... didn't. I mean, I wouldn't mind if you were. It's no big deal.”

 

Byron's eyes ran over him, producing a shiver as if he'd physically touched him. Walt wanted to kiss him. He didn't do it.

 

*

 

Byron sat on his bed and tried to stop his hands from shaking. Walt was usually accepting but he'd been acting a little strange since they'd gotten drunk together a week ago and now? In hindsight, maybe Byron should have locked his door. He knew what he'd been doing was weird but the sheer disgust in Walt's eyes had hurt. He'd waited until Sylvia had moved out at least. Surely he could give him that? You didn't steal someone's underwear and then wear them when they were just across the hall.

 

*

 

Byron didn't know what do do. How did you strike up a conversation with someone after they had walked in on you, almost naked, wearing panties. He'd pushed a note under his door that evening, telling Walt that he'd been curious, that he wasn't some kind of pervert. The door had been locked. Walt's door was never locked.

 

The next morning, Byron showered quickly. He was about to turn on his pc, to see if he could get any work done without his files. Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. Byron hesitated, nobody visited him. He opened the door and saw Walt standing there.

 

“Er... hi,” Byron said.

 

“Hey.”

 

Walt walked into his apartment and sat down. The scene looked strange; Byron could count on one hand the amount of times that Walt had been here. He didn't let himself dwell on the way that looking at Walt made something hurt in his chest. He'd thought that something was going to happen the other night. He'd thought that maybe the feelings were mutual, from the way that they'd fallen into bed together. Now, though, he didn't know what to think.

 

“I... are you still mad at me?”

 

“I wasn't mad at you.”

 

“Okay, then, disgusted, whatever...”

 

“I wasn't – Jesus, Byron, they were my _sister's_.”

 

“What?”

 

“Seriously, couldn't you just have gone and bought some yourself?”

 

“Are you kidding? Have you ever tried buying women's clothing? Underwear at that?”

 

“I have, actually,” Walt said, reaching into his pocket and extracted a small bag. “I thought this colour would suit you.”

 

Byron caught the bag when it was thrown to him. His mouth went dry when he opened it. Inside were a single pair of lace panties, pale lilac, not too frilly, just perfect. Walt had impeccable taste. Walt. Walt was there. He looked up. If it had been from anyone else, Byron would have thought that the 'gift' was a way of poking fun or a way to break the tension but there was something about the way Walt was looking at him.

 

“Uh, thanks,” he said. “They... yeah, good colour.”

 

“Good. I -” Walt began, then he cleared his throat. “I bet they'll look great on you.”

 

His voice was louder, clearer, as if it was no big deal. Byron knew him better than anyone. He was trying to act normal. Like there wasn't anything between them.

 

“You wanna see?” he asked.

 

It was a risk. He could have been wrong. He didn't think he was, though. If not, if Walt was accepting enough to buy him these, he could accept anything.

 

“Uh... yeah. Yeah, might as well get my money's worth.”

 

Walt looked at him and grinned and Byron nodded. He could feel his face heating up, his pulse quickening. Walt sat back on the couch and Byron walked into his bedroom. His pulse was throbbing in his neck. Why was he so nervous? He pulled his shirt off over his head and kicked off his jeans. He pulled down his underwear, white boxers, a stark contrast to the panties in the bag Walt had given him.

 

He stood there for a second, naked, hands clutching the bag. He pulled the panties out, letting the cool lace slip over his fingers, the silky front panels flowing like liquid. There were so many things about what was happening that overwhelmed him. The fact that he was holding them, that they were his, that he could finally explore this without feeling guilty. The fact that Walt had bought them for him. The fact that Walt was sitting on his couch, waiting for him to walk out there.

 

Byron stepped into them, sliding the panties over his thighs, staring at the way the fabric caught on his legs. He pulled them up, amazed at how well they fit. He ran the tips of his fingers over the edges of the lace, shuddering at the feeling of it against his skin. His cock hardened, straining against them. He thought of Walt waiting on the couch and tried to pull the lace up higher, trying to cover up his erection but it was no use. The waistband of the panties ran low, just covering his hips.

 

“You okay in there?” Walt called.

 

Byron struggled to push his cock down. There was nothing he could do. The panties just tented out, hiding nothing. He'd left a small wet spot and he bit his lip, resisting the urge to jerk his cock.

 

“Uh... I don't know if I should come out,” he replied.

 

He heard footsteps that stopped outside the door.

 

“If you don't, I'm coming in.”

 

“But...”

 

“Is there a problem? Do they fit okay?”

 

“They fit. Well... they did but, I, uh -”

 

Walt opened the door. He just stared at Byron's erection, peeking out over the top of the waistband. His eyes were wide, hungry and Byron bit his lip.

 

“I... yeah, so, I was going to ask if it was a sexual thing. I guess this answers that.”

 

Byron looked away, down, eyes fixing on the way the panties clung to his cock. Walt stepped closer to him and Byron looked back up, noticing that he looked nervous. He closed the distance between them, reaching his hand up to pull his face closer, lips closing around Walt's softly. The kiss evolved into something wilder, more passionate. Walt's hands ran up his back and down his sides, tugging at his hips to pull him close. He could feel Walt's erection pressing against his own, through the jeans and the soft fabric of the panties.

 

Byron felt lost in the moment, excitement shooting through him as Walt's fingers skirted along the edges of the lace, sliding under to brush against his bare skin.

 

“They look so fucking good on you,” Walt whispered against his neck as he moved his lips along his skin. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

Byron was shocked to hear him say it like that.

 

“You... really?” he asked.

 

“Fuck, please... Do you have any lube?”

 

Byron nodded, pointing to the shelf beside his bed. He watched in awe as Walt pulled off his clothes and got onto the bed, grabbing the bottle of lubricant from the shelf. He ran his hand over his cock, inhaling sharply at the sensation of the fabric sliding over his skin.

 

Walt was still staring at him when he began to press lubed fingers into himself, moaning softly. Byron watched him, slipping his hand into the panties to stroke his cock. Walt began to move his wrist faster, moaning louder. He really seemed to know what he was doing.

 

“You've done this before?” Byron asked.

 

“N-No,” he said. “Well, I've done _this_. Myself. Just, uh, nothing more.”

 

Byron walked over to the bed, climbing onto it and moving between Walt's legs. He picked up the lube and squirted some onto his palm, pulling his cock out and stroking it. He rolled the fabric of his panties down further, moving to take them off but Walt stopped him.

 

“No. Leave them on,” he said.

 

Byron moved forwards, arching his back so he could kiss him. He slid his hands down, holding Walt open and lining up their hips. Walt squirmed slightly beneath him, reaching up to kiss him. Byron pushed forwards slowly, very slowly, listening to Walt's breathing. He moaned softly as Byron slid further into him. Byron gripped his hips hard, resisting the urge to thrust harder. He bit his lip as he looked down, the pale lilac lace stretching across his thighs and moving against Walt's.

 

He stopped, unable to move further, letting Walt take a deep breath. He was impossibly tight, impossibly hot around him. Byron could feel his pulse beating through him. He kissed him quickly, teeth pressing into lips, tongues sliding briefly before he began to move again. A slow slide out, followed by a slightly faster push back in, Walt breathing deep and hard against his chest.

 

“Oh, fuck. Byron, fuck me,” he breathed and Byron's hips snapped forwards, thrusting hard into him. Walt groaned, bucking his hips, pushing up onto his cock. Byron slid a hand between them, the feeling of Walt tightening around him as he began to stroke his cock almost too much to bear. He took a deep breath, willing himself to hold back – he wanted to see Walt come first.

 

He thrust into him faster, sinking down onto the bed a little to change his angle, making Walt almost whimper with each push of his hips. He could hear him getting closer and he pushed him further, squeezing and stroking his cock until he let out a choked sob. His cock twitched in Byron's hand, coating both of them as he came. Byron gasped, feeling Walt's orgasm pulse through him. He thrust into him again, gripping his hips hard, pulling him onto his cock. He looked down and saw the fabric between their skin, felt it moving against him and he couldn't hold back any longer. He came hard, collapsing onto Walt.

 

When Byron pulled out, Walt made a noise at the loss. Byron wanted to kiss him but he wasn't sure if he'd still be allowed to after they'd lost the sexual spontaneity. He moved around him slowly and fell back on the bed next to him. Walt turned to look at him, his face suddenly close. Closer. Walt kissed him slowly and Byron felt the tension in his stomach uncoil. Walt pulled away and grinned at him.

 

“So... I guess I got my money's worth, then.”

 

 


End file.
